19. Mdumbi Beach to Coffee Bay

19. Mdumbi Beach to Coffee Bay

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18 June 2021

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the familiar that becomes new

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I had been invited to join three of my best school friends for a week’s fishing trip at Mdumbi in the Transkei. It was sardine season, and I only had to drive to East London to meet up with Leon Hechter. He had recently had his boat trailer refurbished, and together we traveled in his Ford 4x4, towing just the trailer and two large road signs, which were strapped tightly to the frame.

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Upon arrival at the cottage, Andre Freitag and Johnny van Heerden were already there, welcoming us with beers in hand.

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That night, it started raining, and the next day the steep road down to the boat launching area became too slippery to use. Fishing was abandoned for the day, and we spent our time fixing small things around the cottage that needed attention. We started a braai fire early, and then the fun began with stories, songs, and even a “biggest operation scare” competition. On the wall, I spotted a hanging sign that fully described the “rules and values” of the cottage—there’s a photo of it in this album.

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Early the next morning, I had coffee on the balcony and admired the beautiful sunrise. Leon and Andre decided to go deep-sea fishing, and I chose to hike to Coffee Bay. I hadn’t planned the hike and didn’t bring my hiking stick or rucksack, so I used my green fishing bag instead, packing some leftover food, two beers, a 2L bottle of water, a warm windbreaker, and R10 in cash. At 09am, I left the gate and began walking along the road towards the sea. I had initially arranged to walk only to the Umtata River Mouth and back while the others were fishing.

Twenty minutes into the walk, I stopped to take a photo of the coastline with Coffee Bay in the distance and a green house in the foreground. I was now walking past a row of cottages behind a fence, heading towards the beach. I followed a path that led to a notice board labeled “Bay of Few,” which directed me onto the beach. The terrain started as flat rocks, but soon it became soft sand stretching for kilometers. I walked past the "Anchorage Hotel," nestled between trees, and at 10:20am reached the Umtata River mouth.

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Across the river stood a unique rock—a natural beacon—towering over the point where the river met the sea. Further inland, I noticed two large cottages and a gravel road leading up a steep hill. I saw two couples who had already crossed the river on jet skis. The men headed up the river to go fishing, and the ladies moved towards a sand dune with a clump of trees, complete with cooler boxes and picnic gear. I walked around the "island" to the spot where the jet skis had taken off and whistled to two young boys playing on the other side of the river.

Leon had told me that there was a ferry in operation at the river for R10, so I was relieved to see a small dinghy approach. However, the man operating it insisted on charging R15, and he wouldn’t accept anything else. I offered him a beer, but he refused. Eventually, he relented, seeing that I had no more to offer, and agreed to take me across on his return trip. He wouldn’t pose for a photo, but I managed to snap one quickly when he dropped me off on the other side.

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I walked up the gravel road for about 1km before turning towards the sea on a small footpath. The path soon became overgrown, and I found myself walking through thick grass. Realizing I was no longer on a defined path, I stopped to take a photo and search for a way forward. Many times thus far in life (and on this journey) I was no longer on the defined path - this is no reason to not admire my “here and now”. In the distance, I spotted a "cupcake" rock and a gravel road leading toward it. I knew that was Mpunzi, but I also quickly realized that getting there would be challenging.

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Ahead of me lay a steep gorge, forcing me inland towards some huts. At 11:16am, I stopped at one of the huts to ask for directions and to admire the magnificent view these locals had over the sea below.

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A narrow footpath led me to a small wooded area above a tiny river. The huge boathouses of Mpunzi were visible on the opposite side. I slipped and skidded my way down to the stream, where I luckily found some rocks placed strategically as steps to cross. The area was lush with ferns and bright yellow “canary creeper” bushes. Once across the stream, I faced a steep grassy path that led to the gravel road toward the boathouses. I rested frequently, counting 20 steps between stops until I finally reached the road near the top. The beer I had packed was now warm, but I drank it anyway as a reward for making it through the steep slope, crossing the river, and battling up the hill. The view from the top was incredible, and I could look back to the furthest point of land where my hike had begun earlier.

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On the sea side of the road, the earth dropped steeply into the sea far below, and the wind made it frightening to get too close to the edge to take photos or videos. Nonetheless, I managed to snap a few pictures before following the road for about a kilometer. I then decided to walk along the top of the cliffs rather than continue on the inland road. The uneven terrain and long grass made walking difficult, but a beautiful aloe in full bloom appeared in my path, reminding me of why it was chosen as the emblem of the Border Region (I have it on a blazer and tie for golf).

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At 12:32pm I could finally see Coffee Bay, though I was still high above the sea, and two deep gorges lay between me and the bay. I was now an hour away from the road and began to question whether I had made a mistake by not staying on the gravel road. I followed the land’s contour toward a dense forest area and spotted a path leading into the bush. With little choice, I followed it, descending steeply into the gorge. Thankfully, there were enough branches and small shrubs to hold onto as I made my way down. At last, an opening appeared, and I crossed another small stream of water. I scrambled up the slippery grassy slope, mentally exhausted from concentrating on the steep terrain. Every step—up or down—took considerable effort, and my heart was racing while my legs weakened.

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At 13:02, I sat down, reflecting on the steep gorge I had just crossed. Finding that small entrance path at the top still seemed like a miracle. I continued along the high cliffs, spotting a lonely rock that seemed to stand as a beacon. Coffee Bay was now very close, but getting down the cliff was a new challenge. I followed the edge of the mountain and soon saw a black teenage boy sitting on a rock, gazing down at the bay. He was the first person I had seen in over two hours. I asked him if there was a path to Coffee Bay, and to my delight, he pointed towards a cell phone tower in the distance. I made my way through the tall grass, eventually finding the path, which led me down a steep hill to the Ocean View Hotel.

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At 13:45, I finally sat down on the hotel’s veranda with a beer in hand. It had been almost three years since I was last there, when I walked from Hole in the Wall on 27 September 2018. I was grateful to be safe and relieved when Leon, Andre, and Johnny arrived to pick me up and return to our cottage at Mdumbi Beach.

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After finding the starting line in my last hike, I was now in a new terrain that was the most familiar of all. I knew that to finish this hike I would need to hold on to the lessons I had learnt this far:  that when I am stuck, somehow I always get what I need most, that connection to self and the earth is my best medicine, and that the journey of life can only ever be lived one step at a time…

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